


아프니까 청춘이다

by poundingsound (bluedreaming), toetips (bluedreaming)



Category: EXID (Band), VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Food Fight, Love Confessions, Restaurants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-02 15:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5253224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedreaming/pseuds/poundingsound, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedreaming/pseuds/toetips
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What would you say," she asks, finally, looking across the table at Jaehwan who’s sawing delicately at his steak, "If I dyed my hair green?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	아프니까 청춘이다

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wykedpanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wykedpanda/gifts).



> The title is from the book [Youth, Painful Spendor](http://www.hanbooks.com/yopasp.html).  
> I listened to [Even Now](https://play.spotify.com/track/3F1ZSr5IDZIynC1veVcUab) by Keith Kenniff while writing this, and it's best read while listening.  
> This fanfic has a [cover](http://i.imgur.com/mxacDn9.png).

 

 _"Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age._  
_The child is grown, and puts away childish things._  
_Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies."_  
―[Edna St. Vincent Millay](http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/237769)

 

"You’re such a jerk," she says and laughs, but the sound, rather than funny, sounds harsh, like the sound of a door slamming. Heeyeon brings a hand up to cover her mouth, but it’s too late; the strangers seated at the next table over are eying her and she—doesn’t want to stand up and leave—but she doesn’t want to look at Jaehwan either.

It’s his birthday, after all, and if she wants to give him his present and make it through dinner and out the revolving glass doors of the lobby in one piece—without saying something shocking or ridiculously banal to cover up the words she wants to say but won’t—she needs to keep to her lane. There’s a limited edition Chopper figure in a box in a bag, wrapped up nicely in brown paper and tied with a bow, and she hasn’t been looking for it for months already on ebay only to leave the table now in a huff of frustration and emotions before she’s had a chance to give it to him.

Heeyeon has always known what Jaehwan likes, after all, after a childhood spent living next door, their front doors so close that it was only ten flying steps from one porch to the other, flashlights blinking at night through the windows of their bedrooms, small kids diving under the bed at the sound of footsteps in the hallway, lights flickering off in a flutter of blankets. Jaehwan likes One Piece, singing, laughing, drawing, and he doesn’t like a certain Ahn Heeyeon, or at least, not the way she wants.

She pokes at the rigatoni on her plate, the fontina cheese clinging to the tines of her fork as her stomach curls up.

"I'm not a jerk," Jaehwan finally says, drawing her attention back across the table as her eyes flick up to meet his, _swish_ , on reflex, and it's not that she doesn't want to meet his eyes but rather that she's afraid her's are too honest right now. After all, it was a certain Lee Jaehwan, five years old and rather too precocious, who had stood in the middle of the sidewalk watching as her mom and dad directed the men unloading their furniture from the moving truck, eyes fixed on a five year old Heeyeon before he'd finally stepped across the invisible line dividing his front lawn from hers and said, in a clear voice, "You're sad."

Heeyeon had blinked, because she'd been hiding the strange, disjointed feeling of loss, of a new house, new city, the prospect of new neighbours and new children, under what she'd thought had been a pretty convincing smile, at least, her mother hadn't said anything about it—

"Stop thinking," Jaehwan had said, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her down the sidewalk to the park across the street as she'd waved to her parents who'd hardly noticed her departure but it hadn't mattered, because Jaehwan had showed her the best way to coax the swings to soar up into the sky and she had felt like she was flying, smiling at Jaehwan in the swing next to her as they'd almost touched the trailing edges of the fluffy white clouds with their toes and laughing as the sky had arched down to the ground as she'd leapt off into the air and landed in the sand.

Looking back, that had maybe been the start of it all.

Heeyeon skirts the rigatoni on her plate; take a bite of roasted potato. The fontina still isn’t her favourite.

"What would you say," she asks, finally, looking across the table at Jaehwan who’s sawing delicately at his steak, "If I dyed my hair green?" _I have nothing to say,_ Heeyeon thinks, _because I can’t say anything I want to say._

His fork pauses, just a quarter breath, as he lifts the piece of steak to his mouth, the sauce dotting his lip before his flicks it away with his tongue, chews, swallows. Heeyeon wonders if he has anything he wants to say, but can’t.

"I think you would look nice in any colour," he says finally, and his eyes are light in the gold of the chandelier, not windows but mirrors, as she meets his gaze.

"Maybe you’re not a jerk, then," she relents, the shape of her mouth strange on her face, bringing a hand up to brush a tendril of hair out of her eyes. The circle is closed, conversation cut off; they eat in silence, only the faint clatter of metal on porcelain, the hushed voices of neighbouring diners.

Heeyeon sets her fork and knife neatly to one side of the plate, dabs at her mouth with the napkin. Her stomach is dipping and soaring, the way she used to in ballet class, but now it’s just uncomfortable. _Maybe I should just give him the present now,_ she thinks, _maybe I should just leave._

They haven’t seen each other in months, not since they started university, an ocean apart, and Heeyeon’s has been looking forward to coming back home, only to find everything different. The friendly camaraderie of high school is gone, even the last year when things had been just a little—different. She breathes out, quietly, and reaches into her bag for the gift.

"I missed you," Jaehwan says, suddenly, across the table, and Heeyeon’s gaze snaps back up only to be interrupted by the waiter collecting their plates, asking if they want coffee or dessert, and Heeyeon nods along but the moment is lost. Jaehwan take a sip of coffee, and she pulls the box out of the bag, passing it across the table before she loses her nerve in the flurry of adrenaline.

It’s not strange, giving one’s childhood friend, best friend, a birthday present, but Heeyeon just wants to leave.

"Happy Birthday," she says instead, and notices that the bow has gotten crushed in her bag, the paper is scuffed and nothing ever turns out like she’d wanted it to. _I’m sorry_ , she thinks, but she’s not sure to whom she’s apologizing, as she quickly takes a spoon and cracks the hard caramel top of the crème brûlée, the sugar shattering out from the point of impact. She can hear the sound of paper whispering, but she shoves a mouthful of pudding into her mouth again, the sweetness limp on her tongue, slippery as it slides down her throat.

It feels like gagging, even though she likes crème brûlée.

"Oh," Jaehwan says quietly, across the table, and Heeyeon looks up at the reaction that’s far too muted, but she’s probably gotten it all wrong somehow, because people change and of course he doesn’t like One Piece as much anymore and she should have just gotten him another iPad so he could have a full trio and—

"You remembered," Jaehwan says, and he’s holding the Chopper figure in his hands, almost reverently. His eyes aren’t wet or anything, but his gaze when their eyes meet is weighted with something she doesn’t know how to—

"Of course," she says, and shrugs, a motion to cover up her lack of words. "You’re my best friend." _And more._

Jaehwan bites his lip, not something he usually does, and reaches for something in his bag as Heeyeong looks at him, slightly baffled, as he passes a box across the table.

"I know," he says, and then grins, more of his usual expression filtering back across his face, "that your birthday isn’t for another month, but I thought—"

Heeyeon grins; she can’t help it, the flash of warmth in her chest when she realizes that _of course he would remember_ as she grasps the box with her fingertips and pulls the paper off.

It’s a swimming cap.

"You mentioned," Jaehwan says, and now he’s the one who sounds a little hesitant, "something about taking up swimming again, when you were taking a break from classes—" He grins, but it’s a smile that’s sharp, the knife turned inwards, "—you know what, forget it. It was a bad idea." He reaches for the box but Heeyeon holds it up and away from his grasp.

"It’s mine," she says, sticking out her tongue; Jaehwan scowls and then laughs and for the first time this evening it feels _right_.

"You haven’t changed at all," he says, and Heeyeon suddenly wonders if he’s been as nervous as she’s been. It feels—better, somehow, and she opens her mouth to say what she’s wanted to say for so long, even before she left for university, even before things started getting a little strange between them that last year of high school; she opens her mouth and blurts it out before she has a chance to change her mind.

"I like you," she says, and it feels like tearing off a bandage; she’s not sure yet what the wound looks like underneath, or if it's even there at all.

There’s a pause then, Jaehwan’s fingers tightening slightly around his spoon. He opens his mouth, and Heeyeon braces herself for the bloody gash beneath the bandage.

"I like you too," he says, and the soft sound of him exhaling breathes warmth over unbroken skin.

"Oh," Heeyeon says.

"Um," Jaehwan says, and takes a gulp of coffee from a rapidly cooling cup.

"I take it back," Heeyeon says suddenly, taking a bite of pudding as it dissolves sweetly on her tongue and she laughs. "I think you’re a jerk after all."

"So are you," Jaehwan says, laughing too, and it sounds like relief and maybe a bit like joy.

"Of course," Heeyeon agrees, and flips a spoonful of pudding at him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: somewhat butchered _Lee Jaehwan can't see that childhood friend Ahn Heeyeon has been chasing after him for years._


End file.
